Shadow

"All right. This is the place." Sam said, looking up at the apartment building.

"We with the alarm system company?" I reread the label on my latest uniform.

"Yeah." Dean looked me up and down. "I was gonna say I feel like a high school drama dork, but…" he smirked. "If your ass is gonna look like that in these things, then…"

I smacked his hand away. "Feel up your toolbox or something."

"I've got a tool that fits right in your– ow!" he whined when I dug my boot into the back of his knee.

"I need bleach." Sam muttered.

"Same." I sped up to walk next to him.

"Hey Sammy." Dean shifted his attention to his brother instead. "What was that play that you did? What was it– Our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

Sam glared at his brother. "Look, you wanna pull this off, or not?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm just sayin', these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?"

Sam scoffed. "Whose?"

"Ours." Dean pushed past us to take the lead. "You think credit card fraud is easy?"

I almost did a double take at that sentence. I loved that line. So many years ago, I'd laughed uncontrollably on the living room couch. And now I was living it. Except it wasn't enjoyable, because it reminded me of what was to come. All the pain, all the suffering. We were nearing the final episode of season 1. It was 2006, had been for a while. And John Winchester's death was closer than ever.

The landlady opened the door to the apartment.

Sam turned to her. "Thanks for letting us look at the place."

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…" she shrugged.

I knelt beside Dean who was looking over the blood splatters on the carpet. I remembered this, all of this. All of this was a trap, set up by Meg. I felt sick.

The landlady continued chatting. "You guys said you were with the alarm company?"

"That's right." Dean answered.

"Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man."

Actually… if Dean did grow boobs one day… I found myself staring at his chest.

The left corner of Dean's lips threatened to curl into a smirk. He straightened up and hardened his face into a more professional look. "Well, that's why we're here. To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again."

Sam forced his voice into an excited lilt. "Now ma'am. You found the body?"

"Yeah." the landlady nodded.

"Right after it happened?"

"No. Few days later. Meredith's work called– she hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell." she gagged at the memory.

Dean went around to the windows. "Any windows open? Any sign of break-in?"

"No, windows were locked, front door was bolted. Chain was on the door, we had to cut it just to get in."

"And the alarm was on?" I threw in, just so it sounded like we were actually from the alarm company.

The landlady laughed dryly. "Like I said, bang-up job your company's doin'."

I forced a smile. "Tell me about it." Something supernatural had gotten in.

"Mmhmm." Dean hummed. "You see any overturned furniture, broken glass, signs of struggle?"

"Everything was in perfect condition– except Meredith."

"And what condition was Meredith in?" Sam asked.

"Meredith was all over. In pieces." the lady shook her head. "The guy who killed her must have been some kind of a whackjob. But I tell you, if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it." she looked at the three of us dead in the eyes.

Dean gave a small nod to Sam. Sam nodded back in acknowledgement. "Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time? Give this place a once-over?"

The lady nodded. "Oh, well, go right ahead. Knock yourself out." She left us to the apartment.

Dean pulled three EMF meters out of the toolbox. "So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment– no weapons, no prints, nothin'." He passed them around to me and Sam.

"I'm tellin' ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig." Sam's meter started beeping frantically the second he turned it on.

"I think I agree with you." Dean's meter also started beeping.

"So you talked to the cops?"

"Uh, yeah." He caught my eye and smirked. "I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law." The bastard trying to get a reaction out of me.

"Yeah?" Sam gave me a half-concerned half-terrified glance. "What'd you find out?"

"Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean– wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo–"

I snapped my head in his direction, the same time as Sam. "Where?" "Dean!"

"Oh don't worry sweetheart, it was the back of her neck." Dean sauntered over and tried to push my hair aside. I slapped his hand away. He only grinned wider. "This is fun."

It wasn't going to be when I ignored him for the rest of the day.

"Dean!" Sam said a little louder. I headed for the door.

"What? Yeah. Uh, nothin' we don't already know. Except for one thing they're keepin' out of the papers." Dean caught me around the waist and pulled me back against him.

"Leggo!" I struggled against his grip, but he was strong. And I kind of liked it. Dammit.

"Meredith's heart was missing." Dean's fingers dug into my sides. "Come on sweetheart, you know you're not going anywhere." Damn this guy. I gave up struggling and just sagged in his hold.

"Her heart?" Sam was expertly ignoring our little act.

"Yeah. Her heart."

"So, what do you think did it to her?"

"Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was a werewolf?"

That's what I'd thought too at the beginning of the case, but it wasn't.

"No, no werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right." Sam wondered aloud. "Plus, if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace. It's probably a spirit."

Dean's hand suddenly slid off of my waist and the solid wall of warmth moved away. I watched as he knelt down next to the blood splatters one more time. "See if you can find any masking tape around."

I finished taping off the last bit, and stood up to see the complete pattern. Dean and Sam came to stand next to me.

"Ever see that symbol before?"

"Never."

"Me neither." Dean looked at me and Sam. We were dealing with something strange, something we'd never dealt with before.

I didn't quite remember what we were dealing with. I knew it wasn't a werewolf, and John showed up at some point. But the details were hazy in my mind. I did know that light killed them though, something about shadows. But the creatures had some name…

"Sharon. Hey, Sharon!"

I blinked in surprise. "Sorry, what?" I realised that Sam was holding the door open for me. "Oh, sorry." I walked into the uncomfortably crowded bar. If it was gonna be crowded then I preferred being behind the counter.

Sam tilted his head in the direction of the bar where a thin blonde was leaning seductively on the counter. "Are you mad cause Dean is flirting with the bartender?"

"Let's find a table." I spotted one in the corner and slammed a hand on it before a group of college guys could steal it. I fixed them with a glare when they tried to sit down anyway, and they backed off with raised hands. Was I really that scary? I sighed and looked away from the man that was still chatting up the woman. "It's fine. He wants a reaction. He's not getting it." I crossed my arms and slouched in my chair. Who cared. Dean was off with some woman, and it was just Sam in front of me. I let my knees apart and lifted a foot onto the raised leg of the table. "You wanna call him?" I glanced in Dean's direction. But he was already sauntering over with a smug look on his face.

"Hey there, sweetheart." I ignored him even as he slid into the chair next to mine. His hand landed on the back of my chair. I straightened my shoulders and leaned forwards, away from his touch. "I talked to the bartender."

"I saw." I bit back.

"Nothin' happened. She gave her number to me. I didn't even ask for it." He passed me a very feminine handkerchief covered in roses and smelling like too much of some random fruit. I took it from his hands and chucked it across the room. I frowned when it landed only on the next table, right next to the college guys that had tried to steal our table. One of them whistled and gave me a smirk. "Oh, so you're allowed to flirt with guys?" Dean teased.

"Shut up." I dug my boot into his. But I leaned back against the chair so Dean's hand could brush over my shoulder.

"I'm forgiven?"

I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Sam cleared his throat. "You two can continue your lovers' quarrel once I'm gone. Now, look." Sam passed Dean a newspaper clipping. "One victim before Meredith. And did you, uh, learn anything other than the bartender's number?"

"Look, there's nothing to find out." Dean removed his hand from my shoulder and got into business mode. "I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so– what about that symbol, you find anything?"

"We might have to dig deeper for that." I told them. "I couldn't find anything in the books I went through. Or John's journal." I caught a glimpse at the newspaper clipping. "Tell me more about the first victim."

"Right, yeah." Sam started explaining. "His name was, uh– his name was Ben Swardstrom. Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal– the door was locked, the alarm was on."

Dean slid over the newspaper back to Sam. "Is there any connection between the two of them?"

"Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least." Sam shook his head. "Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common– they were practically from different worlds."

"So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number." Dean grinned.

Sam suddenly stiffened.

"Sam?" I looked around cautiously.

"We have to leave." Sam whispered.

"What? Why?" Dean looked down at his drink wistfully.

"Please." Sam begged.

I stood up. "Come on." I pulled out my wallet and tugged on Dean's arm. I put down a hundred dollar bill and Dean followed me and Sam out of the bar.

"It was Meg." Sam whispered. "Meg Masters."

I felt sick. If I hadn't been holding onto Dean I was pretty sure I would have passed out. "What?" I managed to get out.

"She was the one that was following me around." Sam looked around frantically. "Dean, we have to get out of here."

I nodded. The woman was bad news. I walked over to my bike and stopped. No way.

'Meg. 351-555-0143.' on a white notepad paper tucked into a bend on my bike. "Dean!" I called. "Sam!"

The two brothers were there immediately, their faces grim.

Sam's fingers curled around my wrist. Whether it was for my comfort or his, I didn't know. Cause both of us could use it right about now. "Shit." he muttered. "I'm sorry Sharon."

"Not your fault." I squeezed his hand.

"Who's Meg?" Dean asked.

"The woman that had been stalking me." Sam shuddered. "The one Sharon warned me about. We met on the highway. I tried to avoid her, but she kept following me."

"Damn, Sammy. Jess would be upset." Dean joked, but his jaw was tight.

Dean started walking towards Baby. "Alright. In the car." Dean pulled his side open. "Sharon, in the back."

"What?"

"We can get your bike later." Dean started nudging me into the backseat. "We gotta get out of here."

As Dean pulled out of the parking lot, I could see Meg staring at us through the windows of the bar. Her eyes were beady, dark, and her lips were curled into the cruelest smile I'd ever seen on a living human.

I had to lie down in the back to keep myself from passing out. My stomach felt like it was in knots. Meg was here. John was here. Things were going to get bad. Even when I'd seen the show I could tell there was something wrong. And right now, I was living it.

"You okay back there?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine." I brushed my hair off my sweaty forehead. I couldn't panic. Not yet. There were things to be done.

"I think there's somethin' strange going on here, Dean." Sam said shakily.

Even in this situation Dean was trying to keep it light. "Yeah, tell me about it. She's stalking you? And not me?"

"No, man," Sam frowned and shook his head. "I mean like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead."

Dean thought for a moment. "Why do you say that?"

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road." Sam started rambling. "And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

"To be fair, she's stalking you." Dean pointed out.

"Yeah, but look at how Sharon's reacting."

"I'm still here Sammy." I groaned.

"Right. But you get my point."

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. "We'll figure this out."

I pushed my door open and tried to stand up. I had to lock my legs to not keel over onto the spit and chewing gum stained concrete. Ew was that vomit? Dean was too busy looking after Sam. The poor boy looked like he'd seen a ghost… wait that metaphor didn't exactly work with us. Metaphor? Simile? My brain refused to work. I dragged my feet against the ground while taking off my jacket at the same time. I managed to make it to the bed before collapsing.

"Okay, so what now?" Dean said once we were in the motel room.

Sam had a grim look on his face. "I think I should go keep an eye on Meg."

"What?" Dean said in disbelief. "Dude, she's your stalker. And now you wanna stalk her?" This sounded like a terrible anime or a terrible webtoon.

"Dean, look. This girl is obviously bad news." Sam tried to explain. "Sharon looks like she's been through, like, the Vietnam war or something. There's something definitely wrong here." I frowned. Did I look that bad? I sure felt like it though.

"Yeah, and you wanna walk right into it." Dean pointed out. "You were the one that dragged us out of there. And now you wanna go back? I should have killed that bitch right then and there!"

"In a bar full of people?" Sam scoffed. "The only reason I wanted to get out of there was because I don't want to involve you two in my problems."

"What's your problem is our problem." I chimed.

Dean sat down next to me. "She's right."

"Okay." Sam took a deep breath. "Then do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from whatever area code the number leads to, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor."

"You're not going after Meg alone." Dean protested.

"You're not leaving Sharon alone either." Sam pressed his lips together.

"I'll be fine." I groaned. "You two should go after this woman."

I doubted she knew which motel we were in. But maybe she did. She seemed to know a lot of things. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. What the hell was I doing? I needed to get a grip. I pushed myself up and turned to face Sam sitting on his own bed with a blank face. He was getting into his business mode as well.

"Alright." Dean finally relented. "Sam, you go watch Meg."

"What? Dean!" I snapped. "You can't let him go alone." I looked at Sam. "Then I'm going with you." I moved to grab my jacket.

"Absolutely not." Dean's hand was firm and unrelenting around my waist.

"You can't let him go after her alone! Then you go with him."

"The faster we get the research done, the faster we can get this over with." Sam said slowly. "We don't need two people for a stakeout."

He had a point. "Then let Dean watch her."

"No. I want to do this on my own." Sam stood up. "She's after me. And I'll take care of it myself." He took Baby's keys from Dean.

These two brothers were so damn stubborn. "Fine. Take care. But things go bad. You call. Immediately. Don't go after her alone." My memories of the details were weak. I wasn't even sure when Dean and Sam got kidnapped by the blonde chick. "Be careful, Sammy."

"Yeah." Dean agreed.

"I'll be careful." Sam said with a small smile. And he was gone.

"Dean, this was a dumb idea." I said one more time.

"Yeah? Well, no matter what we say, he's not changing his mind." His beer bottle landed with a clink on the table. "You got anything?"

"I'm finding similar symbols in Zoroastrian lore books." I zoomed into the annotations on the picture on my iPad. "Gimme a couple more minutes and I'll have something."

"Well, I found Meg Masters and her graduation photo." Dean started dialing Sam's number. "I'm calling Sam."

I hummed in acknowledgement. Oh, look. I scrolled a little lower. 'Daeva'. It was a symbol for conjuring those nasty shadow monsters. I had an answer on them. And their weakness was light. Though that wasn't written.

"She checks out." Dean said into the phone. "There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook. I even pulled up her high school photo…" Sam said something from the other side. Dean turned to look at me. "You got something?"

I passed him my iPad opened up to the page. "Zoroastrian. It's from, like, ancient ancient some world. 2000 BC. It's used during Daeva summoning rituals."

I was close enough to hear Sam ask. "What's a Daeva?"

"Things that have a thing for humans. They go chowtown even on the ones that summoned them."

"So someone's controlling them?"

"Yeah. They have to be summoned and all that. So someone has to be behind them." I scrolled a little lower.

"How do we kill them?"

Dean frowned as he speedread through my annotations on the side. "Nothing on that."

"Wait, Dean. She's moving." Sam said suddenly. "I'm gonna go guys."

"Wait, Sam!" Dean said a little louder, but the line was already dead.

The door to the motel room slammed open.

"Guys, I gotta talk to you." Sam panted.

And so he told us everything. About how Meg had gone to some abandoned building and there was some weird dark magic altar with the same Zoroastrian symbol on it. And that Meg was talking to someone in a bowl.

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?" Dean summarised.

Sam nodded. "Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing."

"And what's the deal with the bowl again?"

I lightly smacked the back of Dean's head. "Communicating with someone. Focus, man."

He rubbed the offended spot with a pout. "With who? With the Daeva?"

"No, you two said those things were savages." Sam shook his head. "No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's coming to that warehouse."

Dean suddenly got up and started sifting through a spread of files and papers on the table. "Holy shit." he muttered, pulling out a record.

"What?" Sam and I went over.

"What I was gonna tell you earlier– I pulled a favor with Amy, over at the police department." I pushed down the jealousy bubbling in my chest. "The complete records of the two victims– we missed something the first time." He pointed to something on the front page.

"Lawrence, Kansas." Sam and I read.

"Mmhmm." Dean pulled out the other file. "Meredith, second victim– turns out she was adopted. And guess where she's from."

"Lawrence, Kansas." I repeated from the page.

"Holy shit." Sam sat down across from Dean.

"Yeah." Dean patted his lap for me to sit down on. I swatted his hand away and took a seat on the armrest of his chair.

Sam, who would have normally complained about our sitting arrangement was too panicked to even make a face. "I mean, it's where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"I think it's a definite possibility." Dean answered.

"But I don't understand. What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?"

"Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

Sam disagreed. "No, we can't. We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet her."

Dean ran his hand down his face. "I'll tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone."

Sadly, we would do this alone.

I walked into the room tilting to one side to balance out the weight of the bag on my shoulder. Sam followed me with skepticism, two giant books in each hand.

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse–" Dean took another look at the address written down. "It's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can."

I dropped the bag from my shoulder with a loud thud on the floor.

"Voicemail?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean blinked at the bag I'd just dropped. "Jesus, what did you get?"

"Holy water, stakes, lamb's blood, a few shotguns, salt, a sniper rifle cause why not, and extra handguns. Oh, and silver bullets." I nodded towards Sam with the two giant books. "He's got about every exorcism spell I've ever learned."

"Four books full." Sam nodded. He sounded impressed.

Dean nodded. He looked a little overwhelmed. "Big night."

"Yeah." Sam brought out his guns to do their routine check. "You nervous?"

"No. Why, are you?" Dean did the same. He pulled the gun from his back pocket and started dismantling it.

"No. No way." The whole room fell silent. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

Dean's lips were pressed into a firm line. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?"

"I know. I'm just sayin', what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school– be a person again."

A person. Sam didn't feel like a person when he hunted. It hit me like a sucker punch. And what was worse, was that I agreed with him. I liked the thrill of going on a hunt once in a while. But I, too, didn't want to do it like a profession.

"You wanna go back to school?" Dean said. His voice didn't even shake with the emotions clouding his green eyes.

"Yeah, once we're done huntin' the thing." Sam was too absorbed in his own weapons to realise the turmoil in Dean. I started prepping a few shotguns. I slid out the remaining bullets and replaced them with a mixture of salt, iron, and silver rounds.

"What about you?" Dean asked. His voice was cold. He was talking to me.

What the hell was I supposed to say? "I think I wanna go back to Sioux Falls." I lied. I had no intention of that.

"Of course." Dean's gun clicked back into place with a little more force than necessary.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Dean sighed. "It's fine. It's, uh, great. Good for you– both of you." He started pacing.

I glanced worriedly at Sam. His worried gaze met mine too.

We both stared at Dean. "And what are you gonna do when it's all over?" Sam asked. His voice was gentle.

"It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be somethin' to hunt." Dean snatched the gun from my hands. "You're doing it wrong." I let him get busy with my weapons. It seemed to still him enough.

"Dean." I said softly. "You should come back with me to Sioux Falls." He paused. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. I took it as a sign to keep going. "There's gotta be something you want to do with your life. Something you really want. Dean, I'm– Sam's never going to leave you."

"Yeah, I don't want either of you to leave the second this thing's over." I hated how his voice wavered at the end.

I placed a hand on his arm. He stiffened. "Dean, please. Hunting isn't a life."

He shrugged off my hand with considerable force. "Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh?" He all but slammed the knife he was polishing down onto the table. It took a lot of willpower to not flinch at his aggression. "I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Bobby's in the first place? Sam from Stanford?"

Sam answered for me. "'Cause Dad was in trouble. 'Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom."

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man." Dean turned away from us. I caught the slightest hint of a tear in the corner of his eye. "You and you and me and Dad– hell even Bobby– I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again."

"Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before." Sam whispered.

But the words shattered something in Dean. "Could be." He turned around to ask me too. "Sharon, tell him. You didn't want him going to Stanford either. You didn't want him– and Jessica–"

"I'm not gonna live this life forever. No matter what either of you say." Sam's voice was rigid when he spoke again. He'd made up his mind. "Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way." Sam picked up the bag of weapons and headed out. "I'll be outside."

"Dean." I grabbed Dean's face and forced him to look down at me. "Dean, let him go."

His larger hands tightened around my wrists, as if I was the only thing holding him together. "You two can't do this to me." The pain in his eyes made me want to cry.

"I'm sorry." I pulled him down and stood on my toes to press my lips to his. I didn't know how else to comfort him. His hands slid down my arms and circled around my waist. He kissed me deeper, pulling me flush against him and pushing his tongue into my mouth. I felt dizzy from the kiss, but let him hold me for as long as he needed. When he finally let go, his shoulders were trembling. "We'll always be family." I reminded him.

"You'll- you'll join me on hunts? Every now and then? Sometimes?" His green eyes were begging.

I kissed his cheek. "Come on, Sammy's waiting."

"Seriously? Climbing through an elevator shaft?" I hissed.

Sam looked at me from above, exasperated. "Only way we can go up without being detected."

"I don't have enough arm strength for this!" My hands were already protesting against the climb. "Dude, I'm already tired!"

"You're, like, what? Four footholds up? That's barely a foot." Dean tapped the back of my calves.

"Oh shut up!" I climbed back down. "A lady's hands are delicate." I showed him the redness on my hands. I winced at the throbbing.

"Yeah, I can tell." Dean said dryly. "You stay down here then."

"Or maybe give me time and I'll climb my way up somehow." I sighed, looking around.

"Right." Dean smirked. "We all know you're not climbing anything sweetheart." he started pulling himself up the shaft. "We'll be down once we figure this out."

I nodded. "Let me know if you guys need anything."

"We will. Once you figure out how to climb this." Sam said from up top.

"Right Sammy. The first thing I'll do is shoot you in the head!" I huffed. "Anyways, you know what I mean."

The brothers laughed.

"Be careful."

"We will." They answered at the same time.

I decided to spy on them from a distance. I used the fire escape of the building opposite the warehouse and got to the roof. From there, I had a pretty clear view of what was going on in the warehouse through the giant window very conveniently located within my viewfield. I pressed the binoculars against my eyes and watched.

Shit. The shadow demons attacked Sam. I reached for my bag. I had to kill her right? Kill Meg? And all this would end? But I knew for a fact the brothers made it out of this alive. Was I even needed? Was I necessary?

I took a deep breath. Of course I was necessary. I could save this show from being the tragedy that it was. I could fix things. Make sure things never got as bad as they had in the show. But fate was working against me. Fate… Roy from the wendigo case… that family from the skinwalker hunt… But I'd also saved people. A lot of them. I'd saved Max. I'd saved Jessica. Sam looked happier than he ever did. I'd kept Dean from drinking himself silly, kept John from flipping out against his youngest son. Kept Bobby from drowning in his misery. Kept the broken family together. I deserved some credit right? And I was going to make sure nothing tore their family apart again. At least not Azazel. The men would have to do some work after that. But it would be fine. Fate could go screw herself. I had a job to do. I had a family– a husband, a brother, and two father figures. I was fine. Everything was fine. My life was great.

I fished for the sniper rifle in my bag when I realised I had a clear view of Meg. I couldn't see Dean or Sam from my vantage point, but I could see her. One clean shot, and she was dead. But man, she moved a lot. A little too much for me to get a straight shot.

"Sharon! On your right!" John's command rang in my ear.

On instinct, I rolled to my left. His commands had been drilled into me. I could move like it was a reflex. Wait… John? I managed to get a glimpse of the larger man before he was tackled to the floor by something.

The Daevas. Light. I pulled out the flashlight from my jacket pocket and pressed the button. It lit up the night sky just enough for the creature to disappear in a black blurry mess from on top of John's body.

"John." I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the man.

He gave a grunt and pushed himself up. "Kill that wench." he muttered.

"Are you hurt?" I scanned him for injuries.

"I said. Kill that wench." he said through gritted teeth. There was blood on the floor.

But right. Of course. Dean and Sam were always first on his list of priorities.

I kept a few flashlights on around me and John, making sure it cast no visible shadows around us, creating a circle of clean light. The Daevas couldn't attack us unless there was enough darkness. And if there were no shadows, they couldn't reach us. I aimed my rifle at Meg.

She grinned at me. Shit. The light. Of course, we'd been made.

"Shoot." John said from beside me. "Doesn't matter. Shoot."

"She has them." I whispered.

"And she can't shoot faster than you."

Tell that to the gun she was waving around like a maniac. "Alright." I focused. On her. On her maniac laughter. This love is maniac… maniac… maniac… Ah hell no. Not that butt shaking song again. Maniac… Maniac… Not the Stray Kids one either!

Focus! Shoot! I managed to press the trigger the second I got a clear line. The glass shattered. And she screamed. The bullet went straight through her head and she crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll.

"Good job." John clapped my shoulder in acknowledgement and ran down. I wasn't sure where. But he was no longer next to me. No longer grounding me in reality. What little confidence I'd gained with his commanding presence was now gone.

My hands shook as I stared at her dead body. That wasn't just some demon. That was Meg. The demon was possessing her. I hadn't exactly killed Meg. All I'd done was kill her vessel. And the vessel had been human. I swallowed, or I tried to. The lump in my throat refused to let me do anything.

I'd killed her. I'd killed Meg. I'd killed a human.

Until the bitch got back up. She snarled in my direction. The flashlights around me started crumpling one by one. Shit. I pushed myself onto my feet and ran. Something scratched against my leg. I bit back a scream and grabbed a flashlight. I aimed it at my foot, the creature holding it vanished, but another one dug into my shoulder.

This scream I couldn't hold back. Damn, it hurt. Then, as soon as they'd appeared, they were gone. Their claws had left angry red scratches against my skin, but they were no longer digging deeper. Where were they?

"NOOO!" A woman screamed. I looked over the edge of the rooftop. Meg was on the ground, her body bent at all kinds of wrong angles. Blood pooled beneath her head.

"Sharon!" Dean yelled from across the road.

I looked up at him.

"You alright?" he asked.

I nodded. I was fine. Injured. But fine. I tried to stand up despite the throbbing in my leg. My leg gave out from the injuries. Curses. I couldn't even walk.

"Hang on, we're coming!" Dean said, and he disappeared from sight.

"Here," Dean helped me inside while Sam held the door open. "Pressure." he took my hand and pressed down on my shoulder.

I hissed in pain, but held pressure just as he suggested.

"I can hold pressure on her leg." Sam offered.

"Yeah." Dean moved to the front seat, and Sam got in next to me.

"Thanks." I leaned back and let Sam press down on the wounds. "You're hurt too."

"Shallower than your cuts." Sam said gently. "Once we're back at the motel, we'll stitch you up."

"Oh, right." Dean said from the front. "Were you with someone up there?"

"Yeah." I answered. "John." I could feel two sets of eyes on me.

"Dad?" both of them said at the same time. They were really brothers weren't they?

I nodded. "Yeah. he's here."

"W-well, where is he now?" Dean stammered from the front.

"Dunno." I grimaced when Sam pressed too hard. "Sam, gentle."

"Oh, sorry–" Sam readjusted his hand.

"We're here." Dean said, and Baby rocked to a stop.

I let Sam open the door, and watched as Dean moved to get his arms under me. "Wait, what? Dean no."

"You can't walk sweetheart." a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Bastard." I was too tired to protest. Sam kept a hand on my leg while Dean easily carried me inside.

A giant silhouette in the room had all three of us stiffening. Sam was immediately in front, the cloth abandoned dangling from my leg. He kept his gun trained on the person inside. "Who are you?" he demanded. He flicked the lights on. "Dad?"

"Hey boys." the man turned around. He was smiling. John was smiling.

I felt Dean's hands shake under me. "Go." I pushed on his shoulder. He glanced down at me worriedly. "Go on."

Sam was already clinging onto John anyway. Dean clenched his jaw tight, but placed me gently on the bed and ran to his father.

"Sam. Dean." John said as he pulled his boys close and patted both their backs.

"Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry." Dean's voice shook.

"It's all right. I thought it might've been." John then finally turned to me on the bed. "You're bleeding all over."

"Yeah. The Daevas got to me."

John nodded and reached for my leg. "I'll take care of this one. Sam, get her arm." I hissed when John patted my knee. "You did good, kid." He was already snipping my jeans.

I let Sam unbutton my flannel to look at the cut on my arm. "Yeah, well. I'm gonna run out of pants if this keeps going on." I bit back a whimper when a bottle of whiskey was emptied on each wound. Stupid disinfection.

A glass of whiskey was placed neatly on the floor. "Need me to hold your hand?" Dean asked with a smirk.

I stared at the needles John and Sam were prepping in the glass of whiskey. "Yes actually."

Dean sat down next to me and clenched my hand. "You two. Be gentle."

"As long as she stays still." Sam said. "You ready?"

"Ye– ow!" I felt a wave of dizziness and pain hit me when John just jammed a needle into my leg. No warning? Seriously? "I'm gonna pass out."

"Dean." John said simply.

"Here comes the other one." Sam said and two needles worked in and out of my flesh ruthlessly. Dean let me lean against him, never complaining even as I dug my fingers into his waist to keep myself from going off to la la land.

Then, just as unceremoniously the two Winchesters had started on my wounds, they stopped.

"Done. Whiskey?" John raised the cup where he had disinfected the needles.

I cringed. "No thanks."

He chuckled and tipped the glass back. "Sam and I will go wash our hands." Right. Their hands were bloody. With my blood. I looked down at my own bloodied tank top.

I waited for them to finish washing their hands. "I'm gonna go get changed."

"You're not moving from here." John said strictly.

I looked at the men. "Well then all of you are gonna have to leave."

"Not happening." John's voice was commanding.

"Then turn around?" I glared at them all. "Please?"

All three men gave a stiff nod before turning around to look out the window. I sighed in satisfaction and turned around to pull out a fresh set of shirt and jeans. And underwear.

"Wait, should we close the curtains?" Sam whispered. I nodded. Good idea.

"I mean you can't really see anything from the outside." Dean responded. "Believe me I tried the other day." I rolled my eyes. Typical Dean behaviour.

"Let's preserve what little dignity she has left." John muttered.

"I heard that!" I reminded them. "I can hear you, you know."

I didn't need to look at them to know they were all turning red.

I managed to wiggle into my clothes. "I'm done." The men visibly relaxed and sat down around me.

"Dad." Dean started. "You were there, right?"

"Yeah. the girl who took a swan dive. The one you shot." John pointed at me. "She was the bad guy, right?" It was his commanding voice again.

"Yes, sir." Sam, Dean, and I answered in unison.

"Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

"The demon has?" Sam was stunned.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell– actually kill it." John looked angry. His jaw set, and his eyes narrowed.

"How?" Dean asked.

John smiled. "I'm workin' on that." His eyes met mine, in a sad manner. The colt. He knew I knew. "You know what I'm talkin' about."

Dean and Sam turned to look at me. "Yeah." I looked down at my feet.

Sam took initiative. "Let us come with you. We'll help." He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Dean must have given Sam a warning look.

"No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in a crossfire. I don't want you hurt."

Sam was practically begging at this point. "Dad, you don't have to worry about us."

"Of course I do. I'm your father." John brought his head down on his hands and sighed. "Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"It wasn't your fault." I cut in. "Are you still blaming yourself for that?" John's icy blue eyes looked up at me. My throat throbbed. "Look, it was my fault, alright? I shouldn't have said anything."

"You were trying to keep him safe." John reminded me.

Sam nodded too. "If I hadn't continued my relationship with Jess, then maybe all this–" he looked away.

"Bad communication." Dean said softly. "It was no one's fault. Can we not talk about that right now?"

John nodded. "It was good to see you all again. It's been a long time."

Sam ducked into his dad's chest. John patted his shoulder with one hand and held out the other for Dean, who joined them eagerly.

All three of them trembled ever so slightly, and a tear fell from John's eyes. I wiped my own from my cheeks and looked down at my feet. I couldn't hug my family like that ever again. I should have hugged them when I'd had the chance.

"C'mere." I looked up at John's tear stained face. "C'mere." he motioned for me again. Sam and Dean shifted so I could squeeze in between them.

Even through the throbbing of my leg I walked over to them. I let myself sink into the hug, surrounded by warmth, by safety, by love. I closed my eyes and soaked it all in. The sweaty alcohol stench of three burly men who never washed their socks regularly. Their deodorants and cheap gas station body spray had worn off. Normally, I would have cringed, would have pushed away them all and sent them on a shower trip with one of my expensive body washes, but right now it was comforting. And I wished they never changed.

"I'm sorry, son." John whispered. It was meant for Sam. John pulled away from the hug. "And you two." He smiled softly. "You two are doing great."

Dean and I nodded. "Thanks."

The moment didn't last long. With a screech from those Daevas, John was thrown against a wall.

"Dad!" Sam and Dean cried. But they too were thrown against the walls.

Think. Sharon, think. I grabbed my purple phone and turned on the flashlight. The Daevas hissed as they disappeared. I ran for the dresser. My leg threatened to give out from the exertion, but I had to get the flare.

I fished for a lighter in my abandoned bloody flannel on the top of the dresser.

"Behind you!" Dean yelled.

I turned around with my phone and the thing disappeared. Keep going. I lit up a matchstick and lit the end of the flare. "Close your eyes!" I yelled. I ducked from the smoke and the blinding flash of light.

A strong hand was tugging me up and pushing me out the door. "Come on, Sharon." It was Sam. "Dean, did you get Dad?"

"I did!"

The four of us stumbled out of the room and collapsed against Baby, taking deep breaths, trying to make sense of what just happened. But we had to go. If I knew anything, it was that this place wasn't safe. "We have to go." I looked around for my bike.

"Yeah, you're right." Sam was next to get his bearings. "As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back."

I looked around for my bike. "Wait, where's my–"

"I have him." John said, and motioned to his truck. Oh. My ride. My sweet sweet ride. He was sitting proudly in the back of John's truck. "Do you have the keys?"

Dean clicked his tongue. "Oh, you're not driving that with those stitches, sweetheart."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"You'll pull those things open." Dean dug his hand into my pockets and fished out the keys.

I tried to snatch it out of his hands, but couldn't because of the stinging pain in my arm.

"See?" Dean said. He dangled the keys above my head. "Sam, you drive him."

"Dad can just continue carrying it in the back of his truck." Sam gave a small laugh.

Dean closed his eyes. "Wait, wait. Sam, wait." He sighed and turned to John who was already unloading my Kawasaki. "Dad, you can't come with us."

"What? What are you talkin' about?" Sam whispered.

"We'll be all right." Dean stood a little taller, a little larger. I held onto his sleeves, reminding him I was there.

"Dean, we should stick together." Sam was giving his puppy eyes again. "We'll go after those demons–"

"Sam! Listen to me!" Dean's voice boomed. He sounded almost like John. "We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him." His voice started to waver. I slipped my hand into his. "I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's-he's stronger without us around."

That wasn't necessarily true. John was strong for his sons. He was strong with them. But not with me. If it was anyone dragging down this family, then it was me. I needed John to find the Colt. I had no idea where it was, but I needed it to put my plan in motion. To come up with the perfect ending. To stop the endless cycle of sacrifice the Winchester men loved putting themselves through. Together, maybe, they would have a happier ending.

"Dad, no." Sam walked over to John who leaned my bike against the Impala. "After everything, after all the time we spent looking for you– please. I gotta be a part of this fight."

John pulled Sam into another hug. "Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play." He patted his back firmly. "For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay, you've gotta let me go." He pulled back with a watery smile. He turned to Dean. "You too Dean." Dean slipped his hand from mine and shakily let his dad hug him. Two more firm pats on the back. "You're doing great, son." Then John turned to me.

I stood still as he put his arms around me. I hesitantly put my arms around his shoulders. He was huge. Sam was tall, but lanky. Dean was huge too, but not as big as John. His beard tickled my cheeks and his military style haircut was rough under my fingertips. It was such a dad hug. It took too much willpower to not break down into tears. I hadn't hugged my dad in so many years. Never had when I had the chance. And now I missed it. I held onto John tighter.

He clapped me twice on my good shoulder. My whole body shook from the amount of firm but gentle force. "Keep taking care of them for me, will ya?" I nodded. Because if I spoke I would break down. I curled my fingers into a fist and knocked twice on John's back, just how the brothers had done with their dad. He chuckled. "Gotta work on that, kid."

He pulled away with a smile and walked back to his truck. Sam and Dean stood on either side of me, tall and unwavering, but all three of our tears were threatening to spill out.

"Be careful." John said before climbing into his truck. The headlights cut through the dark night and the engine rumbled to life. The giant truck slowly backed away and John was gone.

"Come on." Dean said, once the truck was out of sight. He tossed my keys to Sam. "Wanna lead?"

"Where are we going?" Sam put on the helmet.

"Anywhere." Dean said, getting into the car. He gave me a strange look. "Get in the car."

Sam leaned down to my level to whisper. "Everything okay between you two?"

"I think so." I shrugged. "Probably just on edge." I looked at Sam who looked exhausted. "We all are. Let's just keep moving, yeah?" I bumped his shoulder with my fist. "We'll find a different town, regroup, and get things sorted out."

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

He and I both got onto our respective rides.

Once Sam had started driving in front of us, Dean rolled up his window. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"The things you've been saying." Dean's grip was tight on the wheel. "You're not answering."

"I have been."

"No, you haven't."

I sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about." I knew exactly what he was talking about."

"You and I both damn well know you do." Dean's face was blank. "So spit it out. Makes this easier on the both of us."

"I have nothing to say." I looked out the window. "If this is about me refusing to wash your socks then fine. I'll do it tomor–"

I jumped when he slammed his hand down on the wheel. "I'm not kidding." he snapped his head to look at me. He was crying.

"Dean?" I moved to the middle of the bench and reached for his face.

He leaned away. "Stop."

"Dean. What's wrong?"

"Everything." he took a breath, but it was shaky. "First Sammy leaves for college. Then dad disappears to hunt this demon. And now you're talking like–" He inhaled sharply.

I bit the insides of my cheeks.

"And now you're talking like you're gonna- you're gonna–" He didn't finish the sentence. "You know what I mean."

I did.

"So tell me. Tell me I'm wrong."

I remained silent.

He laughed. "Sweetheart this has to be some terrible joke." His eyes widened when I still didn't respond. "Tell me I'm being a dumbass. Tell me I'm wrong." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me I'm wrong, sweetheart. You're not gonna die- you're not gonna die- you're not gonna die like mom– like Jess almost did."

A loophole. "I won't." I whispered. I clenched his hand in mine. "I won't, Dean. I wouldn't leave you like that."

His hand gripped mine so tight, I could feel the silver of my ring digging into my already rubbed raw skin. "Everything will be alright."

Because I would make sure everything turned out fine.